Passion Over Consequence
by dear songbird
Summary: Anastasia Nott is living in a world where everything seems perfectly magical, despite some minor kinks. However, she soon realizes that everything is just an illusion. Love is both the beginning and the end of her chaotic journey into the future.
1. Scheming Slippery Slithering Snakes

**Disclaimer:** This is the only time a disclaimer will appear! I don't own Harry Potter or any other J.K. Rowling characters. I don't even own a British accent! I wish I could own Christian Coulson, though. That's a nice thought. A very nice thought when you think about it long enough.

**Author's Note:** This story consists of twenty-four chapters! Though it will have an unrealistically happy ending, there will be two alternative ending chapters (so, I suppose there are really twenty-six chapters, not twenty-four) with events that I believe are more accurate to canon characterizations.

* * *

The sun was shining brightly, warming Anastasia Nott's fair skin. She stole a quick glance at the sky, and allowed the heat to soak into her veins. As she set her eyes back to the path in front of her, something caught her eye. Like a glimmer of hope and adventures to come, a lone butterfly flittered around in the distance. Grinning widely, Anastasia reached out to touch it. Realizing that it was too far away her grasp, she quickly let go of her twin brother's hand to reach for the beautiful creature. She squinted her eyes for a second, allowing them to focus on the elegant yellow thing, until the skinny man walking behind her brother coughed. Anastasia immediately froze in place. She begrudgingly returned to her place next to the tall, lanky blonde, understanding that she was not to embarrass her parents in public. It was not her place to act out of turn or do silly things such as chase butterflies, or enjoy a beautiful summer's day. She was a Nott, after all.

"_Yeah, yeah, yeah_," she reminded to herself silently in a mocking tone. Ironically enough, the nagging voice that tended to ridicule her parents' rules and undying need of obedience from their offspring sounded an awful lot like her mother. At times, Anastasia would giggle from the irony. Her mother was the living and breathing epitome of a dutiful, pureblood wife. "_I'm a Nott. That means I must refrain myself from doing anything indecent: such as having fun._"

There was another cough, indicating that her father knew what she was thinking. He glared at her slightly as if to tell her he was done giving out warnings. She squirmed a tad under his strict gaze and nodded. She understood the consequences. He blinked in return, and looked ahead at the train station once again.

Her brother snickered as she laced her fingers in between his for a second time. Despite the fact that she found him completely arrogant and boorish, he was her foundation of security. Without him, she would crumble into pieces.

"Shut up, Theo," she snapped angrily.

Theo smirked condescendingly. "Sorry you got in trouble, Sissy," he offered sweetly, hoping that the usage of the childhood endearment he would call his sister when they were younger would work to his advantage. It didn't. Anastasia noticed that he didn't look the least bit sorry. In fact, he looked positively gleeful. Typical Theo.

"Of course you are, you wanker. You just love watching your little sister get into all sorts of trouble. You find it amusing, don't you?"

Isabella Nott gasped. "Anastasia Caterina Nott! Language! You weren't raised by a pack of werewolves, were you?" Anastasia frowned at her mother's obvious distaste for those inflicted by Lycanthropy and shook her head.

"Of course not, mother."

"Then let me warn you, young lady, it would be in your best interests to not act like you were raised by filth once you step into Hogwarts! I won't tolerate it."

"Sorry, mother. It won't happen again," Anastasia mumbled. She, like Theo, didn't feel sorry at all.

"You best believe that it won't happen again." Her mother raised her haughty head, pointing her chin in the air. Anastasia supposed that it was her mother's strong Italian blood that made her act so snooty. She had once conveyed these thoughts to Theodore, but he saw a big flaw in her reasoning. Theo reminded her that Italians weren't known for their superior thinking; according to their father, it was the French.

"Think of how embarrassing it would be for your father at the Ministry if word got out that his daughter used such filthy language," her mother continued, irately. "Think of all the rumors, Anastasia! Do you honestly think that we can afford to lose the respect our families have spent centuries earning?"

Anastasia's anger soon doubled in intensity. It didn't help that Theo was standing besides her, snickering into his hand. True, she was only eleven years old, but that didn't mean she was stupid. She, like every other pureblood witch or wizard of her age, understood the value of perception through the worlds' eyes. She understood what it meant to her parents, and that it shouldn't be tampered with.

"I said I was sorry, didn't I?" she hissed at her mother. "Heaven forbid anyone to think that the daughter of Logan and Isabella Nott behave in a way that resembles something truly disgusting such as a half-blood, or even worse, a mudblood!"

Theo was shocked. Anastasia could tell that her brother was fighting off the urge to break out in laughter. She somehow managed to copy their mother's high and mighty tone perfectly. She stuck her tongue out at him childishly as he continued to gape at his younger sister.

"Anastasia! Do not use that word in public!" Her mother's scowl increased.

"What? Father uses that word all the time when he talks to Mister Malfoy. If he can use it, then so can I," she declared boldly. "Besides, it's not like these Muggles understand what it means. I haven't harmed anyone."

"Foolish girl." Anastasia grimaced at the sound of her father's harsh words. He kept his voice quiet; afraid he might lose control and act out violently. He gave Theo an apologizing look, to which Theo simply nodded in agreement. Listening to the constant bickering of the two Nott women was a tiring job. "Do you plan on sullying the Nott name before you even step foot in the castle?"

"Father, I—"

"Silence." He glared at her again. "You will act the role of a pureblood lady from now on. I won't stand for any of this nonsense; you know I won't. Do you understand me, Anastasia?"

Scared out of her wits, Anastasia nodded. "Yes, father."

"Good."

The family of four continued to walk into King's Cross Station under a very welcomed silence. To any outsiders, it might have seemed strange for a family with two eleven year old children to be so uncharacteristically quiet, but Anastasia knew better. She understood the brutal backlashes that came hand in hand with disobeying Logan Nott. Truth be told, she was frightened of her father and what he could do to her. Although he was never abusive, he was never the soft, caring, and loving father that she wanted. He was strict and always in control of every situation. So Anastasia decided that for once in her life, she should listen to her father. She raised her head in the same fashion that her mother did and pretended that the silence didn't irk her, hoping to gain her father's respect.

Minutes passed before anyone dared to speak again. Both Anastasia and Theodore waited for some sort of signal from their father, hinting that it would be acceptable for them to start a conversation between each other. They both knew how crucial it was for Anastasia to not anger her parents and further, seeing as she had a tendency to act out of turn.

"We're here," her mother announced, breaking the silence. "Welcome to King's Cross Station."

"It's crowded."

"Of course it is, darling." Mrs. Nott smiled fondly at her son. He gave her a cheeky grin before nudging Anastasia, provoking her to add onto his comment.

"Erm...are these people all Muggles?" she asked, feeling stupid. She knew how much Theo loved to egg her on, setting her up for failure. She had no choice but to comply. She trusted him with her life.

"No, obviously not. You're never in an environment where there are only Muggles, Anastasia." Mrs. Nott sighed exasperatedly. "Your father and I expect you to behave yourselves after we enter Platform 9 3/4."

Both Anastasia and Theo nodded indifferently, waiting in line to enter the platform. Suddenly, Theo pushed ahead of Anastasia, allowing him to enter before his sister. Anastasia happily kicked him from behind.

"You're a wanker," she reminded him with a sneer.

"Well you're evil, you know that?" he retorted while rubbing his leg after she entered. "Pure evil."

Anastasia grinned excitedly, ignoring her brother. She stared at the scene in front of her, watching it unfold. Hundreds of parents and children were hugging, giving each other their final farewells. Humming slightly to herself, she slipped her hand into the pocket of her jacket to grasp her wand. She felt her heart soar when she thought of the encounter at Diagon Alley with Ollivander a few days prior. She could practically feel the magic running through her veins.

The old man fussed over Anastasia and her brother for what seemed to be ages before actually assisting them in finding wands. Apparently, he had always wanted a twin. He told the pair how lucky they were to have one another, how they should never take the other for granted, how they should appreciate and accept the fact that they had someone so close to them. Anastasia found his tangent quite entertaining, simply nodding her head at every word he spoke. Theo stared at the old man with a bemused expression on his face, trying not to break out into fits of confused, but amused giggles. Isabella eventually became fed up and threatened to hex him if he didn't hurry up to the part where her children actually received what they were looking for. He chuckled, muttering something about testy mothers and not being able to appreciate good stories anymore while twiddling his fingers in the air, trying to locate the correct wands.

"Which one of you would like to go first?" was the million-dollar question that stirred up another round of sibling rivalry.

Of course Theo thought that he should be the first to test his wand since he was older. Anastasia, however, wanted to go first because she was a girl. They spent fifteen minutes arguing, Ollivander decided not to help and watched from the side with delighted look on his face, until Mrs. Nott sighed. She pointed out that Theo was the only male heir their family had, so he should go first. Anastasia flicked his forehead, earning herself a kick to her right shin from Theo and a scolding from her mother.

She recalled herself complaining, whining to her mother, telling her it wasn't fair that Theo always got to go first just because he was older. Isabella simply ignored her daughter and urged Mr. Ollivander to give Theo his wand.

"What are you doing?" Theo's voice rang loud and clear.

Anastasia shrugged. "Nothing."

"You were taking out your wand, weren't you?"

"No. Why does it even matter?"

"Liar."

"It takes one to know one, brother dearest." She smiled sweetly at him and flicked his head in the same spot she had flicked earlier that week at Ollivander's.

"That hurt," he whined and rubbed his forehead. "I hope that you get sorted in Hufflepuff. Merlin knows that you belong with those bubble headed, peace loving fools."

"I resent that, Theodore," she harrumphed. "According to Hogwarts, A History, Hufflepuffs are known for their loyalty."

"Of course you do." The tone of Theo's voice was haughty. He enjoyed acting like he knew more information about things than his sister did, knowing that it vexed her to no end. "They're also known for being the rejects of the school who don't belong in any of the other houses. Think of all the nonsense Abraxas will spew when his lovely fiancée isn't in the same house as him!"

She rolled her eyes vehemently. "And how would you know? You're just letting what Abraxas Malfoy tell you rule your opinions! I refuse to listen to another word you say on account of Abraxas is an over opinionated fathead. Stop taunting me, wanker."

"Fine, fine, fine. I'll stop insulting Hufflepuffs if you stop calling me a wanker."

"But you are one," said Anastasia unkindly.

"Hufflepuff!"

"Wanker!"

"Hufflepuff!" Theo raised his voice slightly, sending daggers to his sister.

Suddenly, a pair of pale hands snaked their way around her waist.

"Abraxas," Anastasia spat. "What in the world do you think you're doing?"

"Well," he drawled, "I heard you complimenting me and thought that I should thank you for the praise. It's not everyday your favorite girl decides to flatter you so viciously."

"It wasn't a compliment," she said bluntly. "It was an insult, you buffoon."

Abraxas clutched his chest. "You wound me, love."

Theo watched them and snickered. "She seems to be reveling in your presence, Abraxas."

"Yes well, you know how it goes, Theo. Women these days seem to have a hard time keeping their hands off of me. I'm a prefect, after all. Men with power are very desirable, I hear."

"Really, Abraxas? It seems like you're the one having a hard time keeping your hands off of me. And the last time I checked, it was Cygnus who was made into a prefect." Anastasia snorted and tried to push the blonde boy away from her, but failed miserably. He mistook her sign of aggression for one of passion and pulled her closer.

"Malfoy, you womanizer!" Cygnus Black appeared out of nowhere, giving Abraxas a slight pat on the back. "Already got your sights on a new victim?"

Abraxas flinched and pretended to be in pain. Again, he clutched the area his heart was. "Womanizer? I afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Cygnus."

"Really? Then who's that little first year you've got hiding under your robes?" Cygnus chuckled. He tilted his head to the side, trying to get a better glance at the girl.

"You really don't know who this is, Cy?"

"Of course not! I'm sure I'd remember such a pretty face if I saw it." He grinned at Anastasia. She blushed and continued to attempt to push Abraxas away from her.

"Get off me, Abraxas," she wailed dejectedly.

"Theo will give you a hint," Abraxas ignored her; refusing to lessen the grip he had around her body and nodded at Theo.

"Theodore's here?" Cygnus whipped his head around. He smiled warmly, offering Theo a hand. "It's been ages! How are you?"

"Excellent," he clucked through his teeth, taking Cygnus's hand. Anastasia noticed how he made himself look visibly taller, and that he put on an air of maturity. She snorted when she saw him puff out his chest. He glared at her and she shrugged. "Pretty excited about finally starting school, to be honest," he continued. "It's been a bore having only Anastasia for company. I hate being the youngest out of our circle of friends. While everyone is away at Hogwarts, I have to put up with her."

"Really? Doesn't my mother arrange the frequent," Cygnus smirked as he said the words, "_play date_" for you and Ana? If I can remember properly, I believe that you two, Oliver Potter, and Druella Rosier keep Alphard company in our absence."

"No one wants to be around me when the five of us are together," he rolled his eyes and waved his hand as if to say it didn't really matter, but continued anyway, "everyone's all together." Theo's emphasis on the word together caused the older boy to quirk an eyebrow.

"What do you mean by together?"

"You know," he shrugged impassively, "they all fancy each other. Druella and Alphard are intended to be married and Ana follows Oliver around like a lovesick puppy. Sickening if you ask me."

"Well no one asked you, so you can just keep your mouth shut," Anastasia snapped. "Besides, it's not even true."

"You fancy Potter?" Abraxas stared at the girl he had trapped in his arms. He made a disgusted face and his silly expression turned into a full-blown sneer. "Of all people my fiancée could take a liking to, you chose Oliver Potter?"

"Fiancée?" Cygnus looked confused. "Isn't your fiancée Anastasia Nott? Speaking of Ana, she'll be pretty upset when she finds out about your reputation at school, won't she?"

Reputation? Anastasia sighed dejectedly. Of course Abraxas had a _reputation_. Although she wasn't terribly disappointed or surprised, a miniscule part of her wished that Abraxas could stay faithful to her.

With a final push, she managed to separate herself from her unwanted suitor. She fought a strong urge to punch him as he glared at her coldly. Straightening her clothes out, she chuckled humorlessly at the irony of her situation. "I'm right here, Cy."

"Ana? Is that really you?" His draw dropped. "You look so grown up."

Blushing, she smiled shyly at him. "Not really, I mean I suppose I grew a little ta—"

"Yes, yes, we know, princess," Abraxas interjected. He ran a hand through his white blonde hair and sighed. "My little Anastasia is all grown up. She's practically a woman now. Please don't gawk at her any longer, Cy. It's bad enough that she fancies Potter; don't you think? I don't need her running around like some sort of wanton, making googly eyes at anyone who'll pay her a compliment."

"Excuse me," she said, "but I most certainly do not strut around like a scarlet woman, nor have I ever made googly eyes at someone just because they called me pretty! Again, Malfoy, get your facts straight before you say something stupid, because the last time I checked, you were the one who ran around Hogwarts snogging every girl who responded to your ridiculously lascivious stares!"

"I didn't mean it that way, sweetheart, I was just exaggerating. You know me, darling; always joking."

Abraxas's jibe only worsened Anastasia's mood. "Please refrain from speaking to me for the time being. I think I might end up using you as a punching bag of some sort. Either that or you can be the dummy I practice my hexes on."

"Come on, princess! You know I was only joking."

"Look at it this way, mate," Cygnus piped up. His eyes twinkled maliciously. He coughed and blinked a couple of times to cover up his true intentions with mock concern. "At least Ana only thinks you've been _snogging_ girls."

Somehow, Abraxas's face managed to turn a few shades lighter than it usually was. "Cygnus," he groaned, "you're killing me here, Cy. I thought that you were supposed to be my friend!"

"Tough luck, Abraxas." Theo couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's awful fortune.

Anastasia, however, didn't find the situation amusing at all. Her face was red with fury. Theo squinted at her, imagining her ears emitting smoke. It seemed fitting. "Lecherous fool!"

"Darling, please listen. I needed practice to make sure that our first time—"

"Our first time? _Our first time?!_ Our first time doing what? Playing Exploding Snap? Really now, Abraxas."

"I meant—"

"You meant what, exactly? I'm not one of those vapid girls who follow you around, worshipping the ground you walk on. Just because you're a Malfoy, it doesn't mean you can walk all over me!"

"I'm not walking over you, I can promise you that there's a reasonable expl—"

Anastasia somehow managed to maintain a steady face while she continued to cut Abraxas off before he could finish a coherent sentence. "Reasonable explanation? Sod off, Malfoy," she hissed at the fifth year. She then heatedly raised a foot only to slam it back down onto Abraxas's left foot in a matter of seconds. "If you'll excuse me, I think that Oliver is calling my name." Abraxas yelped in pain, and she gave him one final glare before stalking off in the direction of the Potter family.

"Bloody hell," Abraxas turned to look at Theo, "your sister has anger issues!"

Theo only shrugged. "She's your princess, not mine."

"Princess? I think problem would be a better fitting word," said Abraxas irritably. "She's a menace, is what she is."

Cygnus chortled. "She is a bit problematic, I'll admit that. But she'll definitely grow into her looks, Abraxas. You're one lucky man. Ana'll be a great beauty by the time she's a fifth year. Definitely worthy of the name Malfoy under your standards, the last time I checked." He gave Abraxas a knowing look that did not go unnoticed.

Abraxas just shrugged. "Worthy? Maybe. But she needs to work on that nasty temper of hers. Mother won't be happy if the new lady of the Manor is a character like her."

"At least you'll never be bored," Theo offered. "Ana keeps you on your toes."

"Yes, well," he nodded in the direction of Anastasia and Oliver Potter, "I think that I'll have to keep an eye on those two before I can determine anything else. I mean, really! Potter? I'm seriously offended. I would understand if she fancied Alphard, hell, I'd understand if she was in love with Cy," Abraxas rolled his eyes, causing Cygnus to smirk, "but Potter?"

"You say his name like it's poison or something," Cygnus mused. "Care to explain?"

"Not really. I have my secrets."

Cygnus smiled wryly. "Don't we all?"

"Sometimes I wish I knew what was going on in that pretty little head of hers." Abraxas sighed. "Maybe I'd understand her better."

"She's only eleven, Abraxas. There's not much to understand."

"Fine, then I wish I knew what she and Potter are discussing so thoroughly right now," he snapped back. "Happy?"

Theo shrugged, not wanting to get caught in the middle of the older boys' argument and turned his head his sister's direction. Cygnus followed his actions, ignoring Abraxas's rhetorical question. Soon enough, Abraxas was also staring at Anastasia. All three of the boys began to ponder the mystery that was Anastasia Caterina Nott.

* * *

"Anastasia!" Dorea Potter cooed. "How are you, darling?"

Anastasia gave Mrs. Potter her best smile. "Excellent, Mrs. Potter. How are you and Mr. Potter?" she asked politely.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Ana, dear? Enough of this 'Mr. and Mrs. Potter' business! Call us Aunt Dorea and Uncle Charlus," Dorea declared.

"Okay," she shrugged shyly, "I'll try to remember."

Charlus Potter smiled warmly at her. "How are your parents?"

"They're talking to Abraxas' parents over there." Anastasia pointed to the area her parents were standing. She noticed that next to them were two tall blondes who towered over the rest of the parents in an annoyingly overconfident manner.

"How's Abraxas?" asked Charlus, suddenly. "He's treating you well, I hope."

"Er...I suppose. I guess I'll be seeing a lot more of him now that we're both at school together." Anastasia avoided the knowing look on Mr. Potter's face. Marius must have told his father about Abraxas's addiction to promiscuity.

"You're so lucky you're engaged to someone so handsome, Anastasia! We've been trying to get Oliver to agree on a marriage with Seren Longbottom, but he flat-out refuses!" Mrs. Potter sighed. "It's a shame, if you ask me. They'd make a promising couple."

"Dorea," said Mr. Potter sternly, "I've already agreed to allow you arrange a marriage for Marius. Let Oliver find love, won't you, darling?"

"You don't understand, Charlus," she snapped back at her husband. "Marius is very lucky we secured him a marriage with Lucretia Black. She's a wonderful match. She was a prefect her fifth and sixth year, and now she's Head Girl! She's absolutely magnificent, if you ask me. Yes, yes, Marius is lucky indeed."

Mr. Potter sighed. "Of course he is, dear," he offered weakly, not wanting to argue with his wife any further.

"I'm glad you agree with me," she sniffed.

"Let's go chat with the Notts and Malfoys, dear. It'll give you a chance to catch up on whatever gossip you've been missing. I'm sure Isabella and Arielle will be more than happy to fill you in," Mr. Potter suggested. Mrs. Potter took her husband's arm and nodded eagerly.

"You be good at school, you understand?" Dorea gave Anastasia and Oliver a firm nod before leaving, not bothering to wait for a reply.

Anastasia grinned as soon as the Potters disappeared. "Your mum seems to be doing well, Oliver."

"Crazy old bat is still obsessed with finding me a wife. I'm only eleven!" He rolled his eyes. "I'm telling you, that woman is a menace."

"Aren't all mothers? My mother was insane enough to agree with my father that as soon as I'm of age, I should move into Malfoy Manor and marry Abraxas. Do you know how utterly disgusting that'll be?" She made gagging noises to emphasize her point.

"Speaking of Abraxas," Oliver said with a sly smile, "looks like you've got some admirers, Ana." He pointed at her brother, her fiancée, and Cygnus Black. "They're all staring blankly at you."

"Us," Anastasia corrected. "They're staring at our direction, so they're staring blankly at us." Oliver rolled his eyes. "Besides," she said, "have you ever thought that maybe you're the one who has admirers, Oliver? You look rather handsome in Muggle clothing, you know? I wouldn't blame them if they thought you looked attractive today."

"Flattery," countered Oliver sardonically, "won't get you anywhere, m'dear."

"A girl can try, can't she?" She grinned and tilted her head to the side, using Oliver's face to block out her brother and the older boys. "Besides, Theo can't fancy me. He's my brother."

"Your point?"

"My point," she drawled out, "is that it makes more sense if they're staring at you. You're the one with the fans, Oliver, not I." She pointed this out as if it were common knowledge, allowing a minor smirk to grace her face.

He returned her smirk. "Your logic is infallible, Princess Anastasia."

"I thought I told you not to call me that! It's bad enough that Abraxas finds the need to call me his princess," Anastasia growled. "It's not my fault my mother has a sick and twisted sense of humor. Her desire to name me after one of the last Russian princesses is an exemplary reason as to why Hogwarts will be a nice change from Nott Manor. Can you imagine having to live with that woman? I swear her Zabini blood gets the best of her at times."

"Your Zabini blood gets the best of you more than often," he reminded her. "As I recall, you're just as hotheaded as your mother dearest, if not, more stubborn than she. Besides, I for one like the your name. Would you rather be named something like Ursula or Irma?" He shuddered at the thought."

"Maybe," said Anastasia with a coy smile.

"You're lucky you have no ties to the Black family, Ana. If you think your mother has a twisted sense of humor, take a look at my family. Everyone is named after constellations, or dead people who were ruthless murderers." When he saw Anastasia roll her eyes, he added seriously, "I'm not joking, Ana! You could have been named Walburga if you were my aunt's daughter!"

Anastasia looked thoughtful for a moment. "Walburga is pretty horrible."

"Exactly." Oliver smiled at his friend then quickly frowned. "Oh, don't give me that face, Princess. When we're married and have lots of children, I'll let you give them any ridiculous names that you want as long as you promise not to beat me up like you usually do when I say something to tease you."

"I thought I told you we were going to be all hush hush about my anger issues," she said jokingly. "Can't have all of Hogwarts knowing how temperamental I am before we even get there, can we? It'd be a terrible thing if the school was afraid of me before I'm sorted."

Oliver grimaced. "Don't even mention the sorting to me. You're going to be in Slytherin. It's going to be a nightmare being without you."

"How do you know I'm going to be in Slytherin?" Anastasia's indignant expression made her friend snort. She glared at him, demanding he answer her question.

"You come from a family full of slimy, pureblood snakes. It's only natural that you're in Slytherin. Take the Malfoys, for example. Marius told me that when Abraxas was sorted, the hat barely touched his head before yelling out 'Slytherin'. That's not normal. Generations of Malfoys have belonged to Slytherin, too. You're going to marry a Malfoy. It's only natural," he repeated.

"Oh, bless your soul, Oliver. You are so clever," said Anastasia sarcastically, "taking what your older brother tells you and using deductive reasoning to convince me that I'm a snake, of all things. I wonder how long it took you to come up with that lovely speech."

He grinned cheekily. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. And do you see what I mean about Mum's side of the family? Marius! I'm so thankful I wasn't the first born son in my family; my name would be something along the lines of Marius!"

"At least I know how to be witty," she retorted. "Plus I think Marius is a lovely name for your brother. It's very fitting. Now, tell me, O Wise Potter, what house do you think you're going to be sorted in?"

"Gryffindor, obviously. My brother's a Gryffindor. My father was a Gryffindor, and so was my grandfather, and so was his father, and so was his father," he went on for a while before ending his tirade with his trademark "it's only natural" statement.

"Really? Are you sure you won't be sorted into Slytherin?" she asked almost a little too innocently.

"Yuck!" He made a face full of disgust. "Why would I be sorted into Slytherin? Do you see a fork tongue coming out of my mouth? I'm no snake!"

"Your mother was a Slytherin," Anastasia reminded him with a smirk. "I don't see a fork tongue coming out of her mouth. Need I remind you that all your cousins are Slytherins? Every single one of them, Oliver! Walburga, Cygnus, Orion, Araminta," she ticked off a finger each time she said a name. "Not to mention the rest of your relatives on your mum's side. I bet that Alphard and Druella will be Slytherins as well."

"No," he argued, "not all of them were. Cousin Lucretia was a Ravenclaw, and her mother, Melania Macmillian, was a Gryffindor. Purebloods do marry out of the house of Slytherin, you know."

"Rarely," she tittered. "Even so, Lucretia isn't your first cousin. She's your second cousin."

"Does it make a difference?"

You're going to be in Slytherin with me," Anastasia said smugly, "I can feel it."

"You wish, Nott. The day I join those scheming, slippery, slithering snakes is the day Hell freezes over."

Her smugness grew. "That can be arranged."

"Of course it can."

"Honestly, it can. I'll just ask Abraxas. He's going to Hell eventually." Oliver roared in laughter.

"He'd kill you if he heard you say that."

She shook her head. "Not if I killed him first."

"You're definitely a Slytherin, Ana."

"That's the difference between you and I, Oliver. I know what I am."


	2. Tom Riddle, Second Year, Slytherin

"Hurry up," screeched Anastasia over the loud, harsh sound of a whistle. "Cygnus says that if we aren't quick enough, we won't find an empty compartment! I am not sitting with a bunch of loony strangers!"

"Quit squawking like a harpy, woman! I want to be able to actually hear my lessons once school starts." Oliver glared at his best friend, hoping she would take the hint and just shut up. Anastasia, however, did not notice his peeved expression and chose to continue speaking.

"Well get a move on, then!" she bit back full of spite. "You won't make it to school if you choose to stand on the platform like an idiot!"

"I swear; there isn't anyone around who is as loony as you are." Oliver chuckled, refusing to make any motion onto the train as he made his assessment. He looked to his right, noticing that very few people were left on the platform. He looked to his left and then back at Anastasia. He smiled cheekily, shrugging. "I think I'll take my time."

"Halfwit," grumbled Anastasia.

"Who says 'halfwit' nowadays? Stop being silly, Ana." He broke out into a giggle that Anastasia noticed had a slightly girlish tone to it. "Really, now? Halfwit? Who are you? Your mother?"

"We've already had this conversation once today, Oliver, please don't make me repeat everything. Open your ears, you dunderhead."

"Hey! I take offense to that! I'm just as smart as you!"

"Get on the bloody train, Oliver!"

He held his hands up, admitting defeat. "As you wish, my dear."

"Finally," she muttered under her breath as they stumbled into the train, searching for an empty compartment, "I thought that I would have to pull you onto the train myself."

"Oh, like that'd do you any good. I'm twice your size." Oliver smirked.

"Shut up or I'll punch you," she threatened, balling up a fist as evidence.

"You punch like a girl."

Anastasia looked thoughtful for a moment. She gave him a saccharine smile. "Fine", she amended, "I'll punch your private parts. It won't matter if I punch like a girl or not then, will it?"

"Always ready to fight, are you?" he grinned mischievously, raising an eyebrow.

"Someone has to defend me from all the crooks and villains in this world," she said slowly with a snort, " so it might as well be me seeing as I don't need anyone to take care of me. I'm not some pathetic, simpering little girl who prances around like some sort of sugarplum, fairy princess. Besides, I'm a witch, aren't I? The way I see it, I have no need to play the role of the damsel in distress—not when I can simply jinx someone into the next century, at least."

"You can be my savior too, if you'd like. Merlin knows I'm going to be quite the catch once term begins."

"You're also a right foul git, but hey, who's judging?" she grunted, knowing that Oliver was simply trying to get a rise out of her, but that didn't stop her from responding angrily.

Anastasia Nott was indeed a force to be reckoned with. True, she was young, but she was brave and witty. She was, if anything, one of the most cunning and intelligent girls of her generation. (She had already grasped the concept of wandless magic, hoping to learn how to apply it once at Hogwarts!) When she was a child, she had an imagination that often took her and Theo on adventures throughout the Nott family's enormous estate. But as she grew, she often had to push the creative side of her who craved interaction with the light of things to the back of her mind to please her parents. In addition, no one ever noticed, but she had a beautiful singing voice. It was light and crisp like a breathe of fresh air on a breezy autumn day. She found music to be absolutely breathtaking, just as she loved all things around her.

She owned a courageous, but loyal heart.

She had a terrible temper that was set off by the simplest of things.

She had ocean blue, honest eyes.

"What do you know about being isolated from everyone you know, Oliver? You just don't understand. I mean, I suppose you do to an extent, but you don't really understand what—oh my!" Anastasia was flung backwards and tripped over her pale yellow trunk. "I'm so sorry!" she gushed when she noticed a medium sized boy with jet-black hair rubbing his shoulder.

"It's fine." The boy offered a hand to help pull her up. "No blood no foul."

Oliver whistled. "Lucky dog."

"Shut up, Oliver!" hissed Anastasia, glowering at him. Embarrassed by her lack of concentration and Oliver's comment, she snatched the boy's hand hastily, praying for the moment to be over with already. Her eyes didn't meet the stranger boy's eyes; instead, she had a fixed stare on Oliver. "Again, I'm terribly sorry for running into you. I guess I wasn't paying attention because of someone over here."

"No need to point any fingers, kitten," said her best friend with a wicked grin. "Listen, mate, if you have any problems with internal bleeding and whatnot, don't hesitate to ask me for help. I understand how stocky Anastasia is, so I don't blame you if you were seriously injured from that fall you took. Nasty timing, that girl has."

"I'm sorry, but I don't seem to understand." The boy gave the pair a quizzical look and scratched his head. "Am I missing something?"

"Shut up, Potter!" she half-shouted. By now, Anastasia's face had turned bright pink with a mixture of embarrassment and aggravation. Trust Oliver to ruin what should have been a good afternoon.

"Potter? You're a Potter?" the boy suddenly asked Oliver. Right after the name 'Potter' left Anastasia's lips, she'd noticed that the boy's eyes had immediately lit up in interest.

Oliver nodded. "Yes," he said slowly, unsure of where the conversation was leading.

"So you're related to the Head Boy? Marius Potter?" There was an oddly colored gleam to the mysterious boy's eyes. Although they were extremely alluring, there was something dark, almost sinister about them. Anastasia was almost positive that she saw a red glint flash through his stunning orbs. She shuddered, ignoring the chill that involuntarily tickled her spine.

"He's my older brother. A real pain in the bum sometimes, but my brother nonetheless." Oliver looked at the older boy darkly. "Who did you say you were?"

"Ah, how rude of me to not introduce myself! Tom Riddle, second year, Slytherin." He smiled briefly at both Oliver and Anastasia. "And you two are?"

"Oliver Potter," Oliver offered nonchalantly. He then pointed at Anastasia. "This little girl over here who decided to slam you into the ground is Anastasia Nott."

"First of all, Potter, I am not little! I am not a dwarf or a goblin, or any other derogatory names you enjoy calling me! Second, I can introduce myself, thanks," Anastasia punched Oliver's arm, channeling all her anger into the punch. He flinched. She prayed it would leave a bruise. "Like the imbecile over there said, I'm Anastasia Nott," she said with a smile, offering a hand to Tom. "It's very nice to meet you, Tom."

"Likewise, Miss Nott." Tom gave her a charming smile, flashing her his white teeth for a moment. She shivered again. If Tom noticed, he paid no attention. "I'd love to get to know both of you better, but I have other engagements that I mustn't be late for. It was nice meeting you two."

_Something isn't normal with this boy_, she thought silently to herself. _He's very handsome, no doubt, but something just doesn't feel right._

"Ana?" Oliver's voice broke her thoughts. She gave him a dazed look. "Don't tell me you think he's—oh, you know, Ana."

"What?" she asked blankly. "Don't think he's what?"

"You know."

"I really don't know what you're trying to tell me, Oliver."

"But you must!" he insisted while he shifted awkwardly on his feet. "Come on, you dolt! Read between the lines!"

"Dolt? Why are you insulting me?"

"Because you're so thickheaded sometimes!"

"Just cause you think I'm some sort of mind reader doesn't mean I'm stupid!"

"Fine! I'll just tell you then!" he huffed in annoyance. Anastasia smiled self-righteously. "Do you think…no—don't tell me that you think…no, that's not right…"

"Just get on with it," she urged.

"Please tell me that you weren't dazzled by Riddle back there."

She laughed. She couldn't help it. "What? Do I think who—dazzled?" she choked.

"Yes, dazzled! Don't you dare belittle me, Anastasia Nott! Just answer the question!" Oliver's face was a shade of bright red that Anastasia had never seen on him before.

"He was handsome, I suppose," she drawled, "but really, Oliver. I know nothing of or about him. We probably won't even see him ever again."

"Of course." Oliver, still red, nodded feebly in agreement.

"Come on, Oliver," she rolled her eyes gently, trying to stray away from the topic that was Tom Riddle. "Let's go find Druella and Alphard, shall we? They're bound to have an empty compartment for us to sit in."

And so, together they ventured through the tremendously large train, hoping to find their friends.


	3. The Dimwitted and Loverboy

**Author's Note: **Hello! It's been such a long time since I last updated, and I promise that these will come in a lot more regularly now that school is almost over. I'd like to thank my first three reviewers: **tired talk**, **madluv**, & **ChocolateButtons**! :) Honest to God, your reviews made me feel great about this story! I have big plans for it. To answer your inquiry, ChocolateButtons, this chapter and the next two (sorry!) will take place during Anastasia's first year. In my head, her first year at Hogwarts is the most crucial because it shapes her into the person she is. She realizes what she wants to do in the future and _who_ she wants to include in that future, for the most part, at least. After all, she still only is 11 years old at this point. However, I find her to be very mature for her age because of how strict her parents tend to be. Honestly, I simply find Anastasia intriguing. Her relationship with Abraxas is my favorite to write because of the way they interact. Abraxas is like a silly, lovestruck puppy and Anastasia doesn't perceive that love well. But she _does_ care for him to a degree. But all and all, she never ceases to stop interesting me so far! And that uncouth mouth on her is absolutely endearing! Okay, okay, okay. I'll stop rambling and let you get to the story.

Enjoy chapter 3, everyone! :) Lots of love!

* * *

After much determination, and a tremendous amount of trepidation on Anastasia's part, the pair managed to find the compartment their two best friends occupied. It was a smaller compartment located near the rear of the train where most of the Slytherins sat during the duration of the ride to Hogwarts. It may or may not have been her imagination running wild, but Anastasia swore she could see shadows lurking in every corner. Her heart rate sped up slightly and she cursed herself inwardly. Now was not the time for her nerves and anticipation to take over!

"It's so very dicey on this end of the train," Oliver complained, confirming her exact thoughts. He casually lugged his trunk behind him with one hand and held a small green bag in the other. His forehead was coated with a thin layer of sweat, like he had just finished all sorts of painstaking acts of exercise. Anastasia wanted to snort, half in relief that she wasn't alone and the other half in pure amusement.

"Oh grow up, won't you?" Anastasia rolled her eyes and grabbed the compartment door. She pulled it open with force and smiled at the sight in front of her: Druella's head sat in Alphard's lap, giving her the leverage she needed to stare at both the ceiling and Alphard's face simultaneously. Alphard had a thick book in his hands and a goofy smile on his face. "Hello!"

"Loud as always aren't we, Nott?" Alphard smirked into his book, refusing to look at his friend.

"Of course, Alphie!" she boomed happily, catching Alphard's infectious smile. "It's in my nature, just as it is my right being Anastasia Nott."

"Yes, yes, and we wouldn't have you any other way," Oliver conceded. He flailed his arms in an up and down motion, trying to get Anastasia to move out of the way. She understood his movements but only smiled ever so innocently in return. He huffed in mock annoyance. "Move out of the way, you silly oaf! I want to sit down!"

"Really Oliver, how can you be so immature?" piped up Druella in a prissy voice. She had shifted from Alphard's lap and sat in an upright position. On her face, she wore a blatantly disapproved face, which was only intensified by her naturally haughty nature. Her usual gentle manner had dissipated and Anastasia looked at her friend in a mixture of awe and the utmost respect. It couldn't be helped, for at that very moment, Druella reminded her of her mother. "You're never going to get a girlfriend that way, you know. It's plain disrespectful and demeaning. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

Anastasia, who had already entered the compartment and was now sitting opposite from Alphard and Druella, sniggered loudly. "Yes, really, Oliver! Have you any decency?" Oliver muttered something incoherent as he took his place next to Anastasia, which made her giggle even more. She found his embarrassment to be extremely endearing.

"And you!" Druella nearly shot up as she shrieked and pointed a dainty finger at her friend's face. Anastasia froze. Her? "Yes, you!" retorted Druella with a haughty sniff. You are the absolute epitome of what witches should not be, Anastasia Caterina Nott!" Druella's thin nose was pointed in the air like she had the unfortunate circumstance of inhaling something dreadful. "Don't even get me started! You're loud, uncouth, and tend to do the exact opposite of what society finds conventional! I mean really, Ana, you're lucky you already have a life support after school! Although I pity Abraxas for his unfortunate match, I pity you even more! You will be the laughing stock of the Wizarding World if you continue with this behavior!"

"Oh shut up, Druella darling." Anastasia leaned back on the cushioned seat with the same goofy smile planted on her face. She refused to allow Druella's negative tone to bring her down. "I'm just me."

"Great spirit, Ana!" Alphard chimed in as he smiled gleefully. "I do say; you and Abraxas are terribly compatible. I believe it's a match made in heaven. I'd say something along the lines of you two being '_La Belle et Le B__ê_te', mais honnêtement, ce n'est pas vrai. I suppose to say you two are something more of '_The Dimwitted and Loverboy_'."

"Har har har, Alphie. Your humor is always so entertaining. Tell me, where do you get your jokes?" Anastasia flashed Alphard a silly smile. "I honestly wish I could be as droll and witty as one of your stature." She then frowned in fake disappointment, but as her marvelous brain concocted a viable idea, her face relit itself up. "Oh! You could let me be your apprentice! Knowing you, I might even have the chance to do something out of the norm!" She sat silently in thought for a moment before chattering away like a maniac again. "I could finally free myself from these wretched dresses," she tugged impatiently the pastel yellow sundress Mrs. Nott forced her into, "and wear pants! Imagine! Pants!"

Druella looked as if she could slap either her fiancé or friend. "Alphard!"

"Yes, Druella?"

"You're encouraging her to act stupid!"

He grinned cheekily. "You're letting the pureblood in you override the friend part of you that needs to resurface. Anastasia is joking, aren't you Ana?" When Anastasia didn't show any signs of confirmation—the vintage lace at the bottom of her dress was suddenly more interesting than speaking—Oliver jabbed her with his elbow. She hissed angrily, and then finally nodded. "See, darling? Though her jokes are terribly unfunny," this earned another hiss of disapproval from Anastasia, "they're jokes, nonetheless."

"Sorry," she apologized, "I'm just nervous, is all. Forgive me?"

"You're absolutely forgiven, Druella darling. It's a thing of the past already." Anastasia smiled encouragingly, positive that Druella wouldn't catch the teeny ounce of sarcasm she couldn't help to throw in, but Druella frowned. Before she could open her mouth, Anastasia sighed. "I can't help that everything I say is bloody sarcastic, Druella! It's just who I am!"

Druella opened then shut her mouth quickly and smirked. "Duly noted, dear friend. Duly noted."

* * *

A few hours into the train ride, Theodore came rushing into the quartet's compartment. Druella was yet again appalled by how unruly her friends could be and began to reprimand him for his unholy behavior.

"Really, Theo! How impossible is it for you Notts to just act civil for once?"

"Shut up, Ella," Theo rolled his eyes. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily. "I didn't run all the way over here, searching compartment after compartment, just to listen to you harp about my faults."

Her eyes darkened considerably. "Oh really? Then enlighten us, Theo. Why exactly are you here disturbing our peace?"

"You should honestly think about putting a muzzle on that girl, Alphie," Theo snorted. "I believe it might save you a lot of grief and pain in the future."

Alphard smirked amusedly. "I'll keep that in mind, mate. However, I think I should advise on behalf of Druella for you to keep your...suggestions to yourself while she is around. You know my darling Druella doesn't take kindly to words against her." Druella pouted, though she did it prettily, but refused to speak.

"Well maybe your _darling_," Theo snapped and Anastasia could tell her brother didn't find anything darling about Druella from the way he sneered, "shouldn't be so rudely high and mighty all the ti—"

"Ahem," Anastasia interrupted with a tiny cough. "Let's be _civil_," she smiled rather sardonically and tilted her head to the side, "about this, shall we?"

"This is absolutely rich! Anastasia Nott is suggesting that we be civil about something! I never thought I'd live to see the day!" Oliver chuckled then sighed dramatically. He put a hand to his head and said, "Is there any possibility that the world we know is ending at this very moment? I feel that it must be the apocalypse!"

Anastasia's faced warmed considerably. Without thinking, she got up, grabbed Alphard's abandoned book and chucked it at her best friend. "Stop being stupid, Potty!"

"Ow!" Oliver clutched his stomach. "I think I'm bleeding!"

"Nice throw, Sissy. Very ladylike." A round of chuckles from everyone but Oliver went around the compartment, causing him to glare at Theo, who ignored him and smiled appraisingly at Anastasia. She gave him a knowing wink back and beckoned him to continue. (Everyone also ignored Oliver's angry chorus of 'Well if I'm stupid, then I most definitely caught it from you!' and 'At least my stupidity isn't contagious!'.) It was so much easier to be friends with her brother while her parents weren't around. "Right, right. As I was saying before all this dreadful talk of civility and the end of the world started, at the end of the train, Abraxas is being a rather large fool and telling—well, _threatening_, really—any and everyone to stay away from you. In his words, 'Anastasia Nott is mine, boys, so don't even think twice about looking at her,' and other things of the sort. I _told _him you wouldn't appreciate it, but he didn't want to listen to me. So of course, I thought you had a right to know—"

"What!?" Anastasia all but screamed. Fury had etched itself onto her dainty face; she could actually feel her whole body warming up. For a third time, Druella looked appalled. Alphard shook his head slowly with an entertained glint in his eyes. Oliver, who had already forgotten his past woe, looked positively delighted and muttered something about Malfoy's funeral. "Unbelievable," she hissed. "Does he find pleasure in knowing he's embarrassing me?"

Theo opened his mouth. "Sissy, I don't think he takes pleasure in it, he's just—"

"Enjoys marking his territory in an extreme Malfoy fashion," Alphard finished.

"Territory? _Territory_? Well, that wanker had better hoped he's still able to produce heirs after I'm finished with him," she grumbled. "Merlin, when I get my hands on that idiot," she sneered in a very ugly manner, "I'm going to tear him apart limb from limb! He'll be the dummy I practice all the hexes and jinxes I learn at school! And I'm not talking about those stupid ones like a Jelly-Leg Jinx or a Bat-Bogey Hex! Once I learn how to do a spell that causes major injury, he'll be the first I test it out on. That bloody _idiot_!"

"Ana, before you go running off like a dimwitted moron to kill the equally dimwitted moron, might I suggest taking in a deep breath to calm yourself? He may be embarrassing you, but if you go gallivanting around the train like a mad woman, you'll only further your problems." Druella took great interest in her fingernails as she advised her friend. "Don't forget that you're a _Nott_, Ana," she half reminded, half whined. "You have your family's reputation to think about."

Anastasia simply growled.

"Oh, _honestly_, you stupid girl! Fine, don't listen to me! Go running about and make all your problems worse!" Druella snapped. "It'll come back to bite you in the arse, mark my words!"

"I think I can deal, thanks," And with that, Anastasia stormed out of the compartment, leaving behind three very amused eleven year old boys and one very peeved Druella. "Oh," she called out to her friends hastily, "and don't any of you even _think_ about following me!"

As Anastasia ran through the back of the train with a butterfly-like grace, her mind raced in thought. Who in Merlin's name did Abraxas Malfoy think he was, telling people that she was _**his**_? She was Anastasia Nott! A _Nott_, for crying out loud! She belonged to no one, and even it she did, it most certainly would _not_ be to a bigheaded, sadistic, playboy, _blonde_ idiot like Malfoy! A newfound desire of vengeance swept across her delicate face, igniting an even bigger, and if possible, even more passionate flame inside of her heart. She no longer wanted to simply curse Abraxas into oblivion—no, it wouldn't be enough to sate her ire—she wanted to tear him apart, limb from limb with her bare hands! The nerve of him just made her want to _hurt_ him.

She neared the very last compartment on the train and came to an excruciatingly low halt. Abraxas and Cygnus always spoke about how they enjoyed the last compartment because rarely anyone bothered them, so it only made sense that they'd be inside. If she hadn't been so angry she would have snorted. Of course the pair wanted to be away from the rest of the train; they were troublemakers to the bone. She gave a little sigh to mentally prepare herself and pulled the compartment door open. "ABRAXAS MALFOY, IF YOU THINK THAT I AM **EVER **SPEAKING TO YOU AGAIN AFTER THE STUNT YOU'VE PULLED, THEN YOU ARE DEARLY MISTAKEN! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND? I SWEAR, YOU JUST RUN YOUR STUPID MOUTH WHENEVER YOU FEEL NECESSARY, DON'T YOU, YOU IDIOT? I'M GOING TO KI—" A coughed interrupted her. She stopped, mid-scream. "Oh my," she murmured, more to herself than to the occupants of the compartment.

Tom Riddle wore a large smirk on his pale face. However, it wasn't the smirk that Anastasia was interested in. In his hands, he held a more feminine set of fingers. Her gaze traveled from the intertwined hands to their owner. A girl that couldn't have been older than fourteen or sixteen glared icily at Anastasia, who shrugged indifferently.

"Oh my," Tom Riddle repeated, still smirking.

"Tom Riddle, right? Oh dear," she gushed with very little emotion, knowing that this was what the girl wanted her to do, "I'm terribly sorry I disrupted your—" her eyes fluttered across the compartment from Tom to the older girl sitting so _awfully _close to him, "—your _conversation_."

"It's quite alright," Tom said, amused. He dropped the girl's hands. He turned to the girl and commanded, "Tell Miss Nott that you don't mind, Cosette."

The girl dropped her glare and looked astounded; Anastasia could almost see the indecision and annoyance on her face. "It's fine, Nott," she gritted through her teeth.

"No," she insisted, still trying to appease the blonde girl, "it really wasn't. Heavens, I'm being horrifyingly rude! I'm so very, very, _very_ sorry I interrupted whatever you two were doing." She eyed the girl again in a very rude manner, to which she received another glare.

Tom still looked amused and chucked. "I'm telling you, Miss Nott, it's fine. We weren't...ahem," he gave Anastasia a knowing smile, "discussing anything of true importance. Just idle chat. If you are looking for Abraxas Malfoy, I do believe that he is three compartments down from ours." He gave her another reassuring smile and beckoned her to find her fiancé. She of course blushed the entire time and thanked him profusely for his help.

"Thank you again," she said for the fourth time. "And I'm sorry for disturbing you lot."

"I've already told you, Anastasia," Tom said, almost sternly, "it's quite alright. Run along and scold your fiancé now. I'm sure he's very deserving of it."

"Thank yo—wait! How did you know that I'm engaged to that imbecile?" Tom only smiled kindly. "That wanker," she shrieked. "I'm going to murder him!"

"Good luck," he wished. Anastasia grunted in response. She slammed the compartment door shut and heard Tom's melodic laughter, which only made her want to hurt Abraxas even more. She stomped her way three compartments down from the Stupid-Tom-Riddle-Who-Laughed-At-Her-Misfortune's compartment and forced the door open angrily.

"Princess! You've decided to come and keep me company?" Anastasia entered the spacious room and closed the door. She lunged forward, smacked his head roughly, then glowered and folded her arms across her chest. "Ouch! What was that for?"

"For being an incorrigible idiot!"

"I am not an incorrigible—" he noticed her fuming stare and comprehension washed onto his usually arrogant face, "oh. Oh. _Oh!_"

Anastasia wanted to either push him off a cliff to let him fall toward his inevitable death, or go back into to time to have him guillotined. She surmised that the latter would end his life too quickly for her liking and hoped that there were plenty of cliffs available once she arrived at Hogwarts. "Don't just sit there and repeat yourself, you twit! Apologize to me!'

"Why should I apologize for something I'm not even sorry for?"

"Because," she screeched shrilly, "you are the most unbearable, unfortunate, unsophisticated simpleton I have ever had the—not pleasure, no, knowing that someday I will end up having to share a bed with a moron like you is definitely not a _pleasing _thought—misfortune of laying eyes on!"

"Darling, I'm sorry," Abraxas insisted. He held his hands out to her, obviously inviting her to sit in his lap. "Let's just talk it out, shall we? Autumn, you move over and sit by Burke and then my princess—I mean _Anastasia_ can sit...er, close to me."

Cygnus sniggered but looked away when Anastasia frowned at him. "Sorry, he muttered. He got up and opened the door. "I think I'll go find my brother."

"You're a dirty liar, Abraxas," the girl Anastasia supposed was named Autumn accused after Cygnus left. "Honestly, you shouldn't try to belittle your betrothed every chance you get. It's plain that she already dislikes sharing the same air she has to breathe with you. Apologize for embarrassing her in such a painful way once more and let her run along to her little friends." Though she was grateful for the older girl's interjection, Anastasia did not appreciate being called _little_. She wanted to scoff in return, but tried her best not to.

However, Abraxas only showed signs of finding Autumn's outbreak to be a bother. "Shove off, Abbott. Why are you even in this compartment? You're in Ravenclaw; Slytherins only, I say!"

"Oi! Don't speak to my cousin that way, Malfoy! I'll hex you the next time you're rude!" A slightly built, light blonde boy gave Abraxas a shove and menacing stare with his incredibly blue eyes. Abraxas only shrugged indifferently. The boy then turned his head to Anastasia. "I'm terribly sorry that you're stuck," he jabbed his thumb in Abraxas's direction, "with this dunce. We tried to keep him from running his mouth earlier this morning, but he seems uncontrollable. If you ever need anyone to give him a good beating, owl me," he added with a wink.

"And who exactly am I owling?" Anastasia smirked slightly at Abraxas's agape expression.

"Don't listen to him, Ana! He'll corrupt you!" he interrupted. "He's an absolute bore and has a terrible personality. You're much better sticking around me, princess."

Instead of paying any heed to Abraxas, the boy merely smiled charmingly at Anastasia. "Claurence Prewett at your service, madam."

"Prewett?" she echoed. She was almost positive that Oliver's older sister, Cassiopeia was married to a Prewett. "Are you related to Ignatius Prewett by any chance?"

"Ignatius? Hmm...I believe he is a cousin of some sort," he smiled apologetically. "The Prewett family is one of the bigger pureblood families, as you know. Sometimes it gets hard to keep track of who is who, and we rarely have family get-togethers."

"Understandable," she said, a tiny bit disappointed.

"Although," he said quickly, sensing her dissatisfaction, "after you and Malfoy tie the not, I do know that we'll be in-laws." He gave her a quirky chuckle.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Claurence beamed cheerily. "His older brother, Alpheus, is marrying my sister."

"She doesn't need to hear your life story, Prewett!" Abraxas stretched out and forcibly pulled Anastasia into his lap. She scowled. "I hope you know we're going to sit like this until it is time to change into our school robes."

"I'd rather not," she said dryly. "I want to get back to my friends."

"Aw, just let her go, Malfoy," Claurence yawned. "You can spend as much time as you want with her once we're actually at school."

"Fine," Abraxas whined. "But she has to give me a kiss before she leaves!"

"Abraxas!" Autumn raised her right hand, and before Anastasia knew it, Abraxas's pale face collided with the middle of her small, delicate palm.

"Bugger!"

"You didn't have to hit him, you know." Anastasia sighed and pecked Abraxas gently on the cheek. She felt sorry for him.

"Of course I did." Autumn shook her head. "I was defending your honor."

"Well I don't _need _anyone to 'defend my honor' for me, thanks," she snapped.

Abraxas wore a sassy grin. He gave Claurence a look and said, "She's ever the feisty one, yeah?"

Anastasia only snorted before giving him a chaste kiss on the lips, all notions of her anger completely dissipated. "I'll see you during the feast, _Loverboy_."


	4. What Exactly is a Beefcake?

**Author's Note: **Hello again! It's been a while, hasn't it? Here's the next chapter! I realize that a lot of it seems like pointless dialogue, but I promise it all has underlying meaning. To **CacklingBlasphemy**, I love you. Really. Your review pretty much made the existence of this chapter. I really, really, _really_ appreciated it. I agree with your assessment as well. I've read so many cliché stories with the same plot (and some even have the same dialogue), and I just really wanted to create something that differed from that. I'm not saying that my story will be free of clichés, though. I am a sucker for some of them. I won't, however, allow things to happen in a way that make it _too_ convenient for my characters. I've learned that in life, nothing ever comes easy, especially love and happiness. You have to work for both of them until you can't do anymore.

Although this story is a romance, it's more or less addressing the hypocritical nature of human beings and how we tend to lean toward accepting appearances as they are instead of fully investigating the truth. We as a society are consumed with the materialistic and superficial means of living. The way people see us plays a huge part in the way we act in public, and poor Anastasia is conflicted between both sides of the spectrum.

_"I hear your voice,_  
_It's like an angel sighing_  
_I have no choice, I hear your voice _  
_Feels like flying._  
_I close my eyes, oh God,_  
_I think I'm falling _  
_Out of the sky_  
_I close my eyes,_  
_Heaven help me." _

—Like A Prayer // Madonna

A lot of the stupid banter was inspired by the show _Glee_. I love that show more than words can express and I would like to marry Jonathan Groff even though he's gay.

* * *

Anastasia stared at the brilliant night sky with a dumbstruck expression. It was absolutely beautiful! From the stars to the moon to the silent, lucid lake—it was one of the first times in her life where she had been rendered speechless. Oliver seemed to notice her hushed disposition and snorted loudly. She gave him a look and he quickly covered his snort with a cough before she allowed herself to stare at the sky once more.

Suddenly, she was pulled out of her trance. Oliver was holding a hand up to his mouth, trying to stop his giggles from being heard. She gave him an angry glare before looking back at the beautiful scenery before her.

She lowered her line of vision and squinted her eyes at the outline of the Hogwarts castle. She then quickly adverted her eyes to the moon's bright reflection on the Great Lake's surface before she shoved Oliver lightly, hoping to not only spread her excitement, but to also afflict some sort of retribution. He only frowned at her while trying to keep the balance of the tiny boat intact. She turned around with a snicker and received a confirming nod from Alphard, who was allowing Druella to cuddle into his side. With a malicious smile, Anastasia shoved Oliver, whose hand now traced the outline of the lake, a bit harder, causing him to splash a few droplets of water onto himself.

"Will you quit manhandling me? I can only tolerate so much," he hissed irritably, flicking his now wet hand in Anastasia's direction.

"I don't think I quite understand what you are talking about." Anastasia wiped the water off her face and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Don't be childish. I think you very well know what I'm talking about."

"Nuh uh!"

"Uh huh!"

"Prove it, Potty."

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?!"

"So long as you insist on calling me _princess_," her face contorted in minor disgust, "I've decided to call you whatever I wish."

Druella coughed. Anastasia and Oliver turned around expectantly, both wearing sly grins that she did not notice. "Do you two ever stop bickering?" she sighed, fed up with their conversation.

"Of course not," the pair responded simultaneously while turning back to one another.

"That would be utterly and completely boring—"

"—not to mention downright impossible."

"I mean _look_ at him, Druella," Anastasia continued. "He's absolutely _ridiculous_—"

"Look at me? Look at _me_? Look at _her_—no, don't look at Druella, you stupid girl! _Don't look at __Druella_, I say. Look at yourself! Yes, _yourself_! You're absolutely barmy!"

Anastasia looked offended. "How incredibly rude of you! Me? _Barmy?_ You're the one who's _barking_."

"Barking? Oh, honestly! Take a look in a mirror, Ana, your argument is entirely ludicrous!"

"So you're bringing in my looks now, eh? Well I wouldn't act all high and mighty if I were you, Oliver Potter! I know a few good hexes that will change your face permanently!"

"I doubt _you_ have the ability to do something as vindictive as _that_."

"Meaning _what_ exactly, you little beefcake?"

"Beefcake? What does that even mean?"

Anastasia simply smirked with hauteur. "Who trumps who again, Potty?"

Oliver didn't pay her any mind. "Beefcake? Is that a food? Are you trying to tell me that I'm fat or something? Merlin! I think I prefer you calling me a prick!"

"That's what you get for saying what you said to me!"

"This is getting ridiculous! I didn't mean it like _that_ okay? Come _on_!" Oliver rolled his eyes noncommittally.

"You didn't mean _what_ like _what_, exactly?"

"You know! _It_! Like _that_. Do you even _remember_ what I said? Probably not since you're so _dimwitted_, as Alphard so kindly pointed out earlier this evening."

"Well, you know what _I _think, you _beefcake_? _I _think that _you_ should—"

"SHUT UP!" Druella shrieked, face red. "Shut up! Shut _up_! If I have to listen to you two _bickering_ the rest of the way, I swear I will rip both of your tongues out with my bare hands! Sweet Circe! At least _attempt _to say something intelligent when you're in the midst of acting like dunces!"

"That doesn't even make any sense, Druella," Oliver pointed out. "How can we say something _smart _if we're being _stupid_?"

"I'll kill you!" Druella threatened, pointing a skinny finger in his direction. "When you least it expect it Potter, I will kill you."

Alphard, on the other hand, didn't seem bothered by their little outburst and even applauded Anastasia and Oliver for 'the lovely show they put on'. Anastasia did a mini-curtsy and Oliver took a slight bow.

"There's no doubt in my mind that the three of you are daft," Druella muttered aloud, but more to herself than anyone else, as she watched the whole exchange. "Absolutely nutty, the whole lot of you."

"You know, Druella," said Anastasia in an eerily cheery voice, "they say that when you talk to yourself, it's a sign that you're going mad—if you aren't already, that is."

"Yes!" agreed Oliver wholly. "And they also say that the first step to overcoming a problem is to admit that you have a problem! Do you think you can do that for us, Druella? Can you admit that you have a problem?"

"Admit that I have a _problem_? Of course I can! You want to know my problem?" Anastasia and Oliver nodded eagerly, whereas Alphard looked skeptical and shook his head in disagreement. "Well," Druella seethed, "my _problem_ is that instead of _friends_ I have two pet monkeys who never shut up!"

"Oh my. That doesn't _seem_ very pleasant," said Anastasia with a jolly smile. "However, unpleasant things have the ability to prove us wrong when we least expect it."

"I high doubt that you have the ability to change overnight, Anastasia Nott," Druella commented dryly.

"I don't suppose," continued Anastasia on her thought, ignoring Druella, "you could direct me to the monkeys, could you? I've always wanted to meet one."

Druella followed Anastasia's actions and ignored her friend. "Since you're such an expert on these things, you of _all _people should know that a poisonous toadstool never changes its spots."

"Why does it feel like the pot is calling the kettle back?" mumbled Oliver to no one in particular. "Druella Rosier, the epitome of _change_."

Druella glared at him, but even Alphard chuckled a little.

"Really, Druella, you fit the description perfectly! Watch this," he beckoned. Oliver straightened his posture and flung his hand around in what Anastasia supposed was a fancy wave. "Welcome to Black Manor, home of Monsieur Alphard Black and Madame Druella Black née Rosier."

Druella's glare hardened. Alphard looked interested.

"Oh dear me!" exclaimed Oliver in the same oily tone. "I'm afraid I've forgot to mention that Black Manor is also referred to 'Druella's House of Superciliousness and Pomp'. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

"I'm surprised you even know the word superciliousness," Alphard confessed as Druella flicked the back of Oliver's head. Oliver just smiled smugly.

"I'll have you know I am full of surprises."

"Aha!" cried Anastasia. She noticed they were almost at the castle and attempted to change the topic—she knew Oliver was treading in dangerous waters by insulting Druella in such a way. "But said poisonous toadstool can disguise itself for the time being and upspring onto an unsuspecting victim at the right moment, can't it?"

"Are we still talking about what I think we're talking about?" Druella looked at Anastasia with disbelief, but Anastasia knew her friend was thankful. "_Honestly_."

"What does that even mean?" Oliver snorted with laughter. "You're a riot, Ana."

"I'm a riot? Of course I'm a riot. You on the other handÉwell I guess if I'm a riot, that makes you a wanker. Superciliousness? I'm with Alphie on that one. I didn't even know you knew such a word."

"Ah, again with your infallible logic, dear princess. You never cease to amaze me."

"Good. It should stay that way for the time being. After all, I am a _princess_, am I not?"

"Indeed you are," Oliver reassured.

"Look! We're here!" Alphard's voice interrupted the pair's banter with gleeful delight.

"Alphard," Anastasia looked at him slowly, "do you always have to be so...cheerful? It gets a tad bit unsettling at times."

He gave her a funny look that didn't sit well with her stomach before turning back into his normal, cheery self once more. "Of course I do, you silly girl. Just as you are obnoxiously you, I am cheerfully me."

She nodded as if it made perfect sense and left it at that.

* * *

"Really, now! Must you two continue to giggle like little girls?" complained Druella with an elegant huff. Her face was bright red with embarrassment and she looked ready to kill. She shot daggers at Anastasia and Oliver who, in their defense, were simply giddy with excitement and amusement. "I already told you that it was an accident! I even apologized to Alphie!"

"G-gig-g-gi-giggle," Anastasia managed to choke out, though she stuttered the entire word. "Giggling like goofy, gabby, grinning, girly, gleeful girls!"

Druella stared at her in horror. Oliver, on the other hand, ceased his laughter, but still looked rather merry.

"Great alliteration, Ana! Have you ever considered poetry?" he mused with a smile.

"I'm a poet and I didn't even know it! Get it, Oliver?"

An even larger bout of laughter exploded from the pair, and the face Druella wore was so shocked, so mortified, so clearly _un-_amused with Anastasia's behavior that even Alphard wanted to burst out in a fit of uncontrolled laughter—something that his French mother had deemed unfit for a man of his age. She called it '_un éclat de rire_', and would scold him whenever he performed the terrible deed.

"Is there something wrong with your face, Druella darling?" asked Anastasia with a not-so-innocent smile. "You look a teensy bit flushed. Perhaps more of my poetry reading to calm the nerves of being sorted?"

"You little—"

"There you are!" Theo ran over to the four friends in a manner that started out boyish but turned into long strides, with an air of indignation of course, once he caught himself. "You left me to fend for myself! I had to ride with two nameless twits that will be Hufflepuffs, no doubt." He looked over at Anastasia and Oliver. "What are you two idiots laughing about?"

The pair looked at each other once more before succumbing into another fit of mirthful laughter.

"Well you see," said Anastasia, still laughing, "while we were walking over here, Druella thought she saw a cockroach and started squealing and then she accidentally ba—"

"Why do you always get to play the role of storyteller? I want to!" Oliver gave a childish pout as he interrupted her. "You don't even tell them right. You shut your mouth for once and let _me_ tell the good parts!"

"How dare you! I'll have you know that not only am I a riot, but I was also in the middle of telling my brother a _very_ funny story when you so rudely interrupted me, you little beefcake! Why, I ought to—"

"YES, WELL YOU SEE," said Oliver loudly over the rambling Anastasia, "after Druella saw the cockroach, she began to shrill like a little priss and flailed her arms around like a madwoman. She _obviously_ wasn't thinking properly because the next thing you know, her _hand_ landed in Alphard's priva—"

"SHUT UP!" shrieked Druella for a second time that night. Once more, her face was bright red and blotchy, only there was a mixture of mortification with her usual anger. "This whole story is unnecessary! Theo doesn't need to know anything!" Anastasia and Oliver took no heed to Druella's outburst.

"You should have seen her face, Theo! It was brilliant. I've never seen anyone get so red so quickly! She was like a tomato!"

"And Alphard wasn't even _fazed_. He just told her to calm down!"

"What would you have done if something like that happened to you, Oliver? You'd probably turn into a frog, wouldn't you?"

"Why on Earth would I turn into a _frog_, Ana?"

"I don't know...it just seems fitting."

"Are you trying to tell me that I look like a frog? Because I'll have you know that I am highly offended and—"

"Sweet Merlin!" exclaimed Theo exasperatedly. "You two really are the biggest idiots I've ever met!"

"Hey Oliver," wondered Anastasia, who was suddenly somber. "Why does everyone insist on calling us idiots? If anything, _I'm_ the smartest one here."

"The only way you'd be the smartest one here is if we were all dead, princess."

"This is an unpleasant conversation; I'd hate to imagine you all dead. Can we change the subject?"

"Yes _please_," Druella seconded Anastasia's suggestion.

Anastasia smiled warmly. "Really? I was just joking. I don't find this conversation unpleasant at all. Okay, so let's continue! So, if you were all dead, I'd probably feel really sad at first but then get over it because well, you know—"

"Shut up, Sissy." Theo looked dumbly at his sister who refused to keep her mouth closed. "No one wants to hear anymore incessant nonsense that seems to fall out of your mouth like vomit."

"What a vulgar image. You don't need to be impolite, _brother_."

Oliver sniggered quietly and was immediately slapped by Anastasia. "What?" he asked sheepishly.

"_Now_ I know why everyone thinks we're stupid. We're like this package and you ruin it all. Here I am—beauty, brains, and brawn. And there _you_ are—silly, stupid, and slovenly."

"How about you stop with the alliteration and say something that makes sense for once?" he countered. "I always have to hear you say such redundant and irrelevant things!"

"Yeah? Well how about you go and shove your wand up your—"

"Enough!" Theo grabbed Anastasia's hand, pulling her toward him and away from Oliver. "Enough," he repeated authoritatively. When Anastasia tried to pry herself away from his grip, he only held onto her hand tighter. It was an obvious indication that she was to kindly shut her mouth and walk beside her twin brother like the pureblood witch her parents had raised her to be. He gave her a look of clear disappointment, embarrassment and annoyance.

Oh yes, Anastasia certainly did get the hint Theodore was trying to give her. But, before she could tell _him_ what she thought he should do with his _hint _and ashamed look, she was interrupted by Alphard.

"Oh look," he beckoned airily, "it's time for us to be sorted."

"Finally!" Druella started, relieved. "I was afraid that they'd make us wait even longer out here, forcing me to actually listen to those two imbeciles drone on and on about Circe knows what."

"I really am starting to resent all this negativity directed my way," quipped Anastasia. "I don't really mind if you're insulting Oliver because he deserves it, but I on the other hand—"

"First years!" a loud, but pleasant sounding, voice commanded, interrupting Anastasia's next tangent. It belonged to a skinny man in a deep, royal purple set of robes that clashed greatly with his bright red-orange hair and beard. The tall man wore half-moon spectacles on the bridge of his nose. "I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Deputy Headmaster," he said with a kind smile. He then raised his hands and beckoned the horde of first years to get closer to him. "Please line up in single file behind me."

Their group was at the very end of the line and Anastasia found herself growing impatient. She clucked her tongue and tapped her foot, indicating so. Her eyes wandered around the corridor, taking in every intricate design laid onto the foundation. Not too long after her mind began to wander, Theo clasped her hand tight once more and shoved her in front of him.

"Be gentle," she hissed.

"Be quiet," he snapped back.

"I'll be quiet when you're gentle."

"I'll be gentle when you're quiet—wait! I refuse to be sucked into the pointless banter you always seem to cause. _Sta zitta_, Anastasia," Theo reprimanded.

"Fine," she sniffed. "You don't have to speak in _her_ language to tell me to shut up, though. I'd appreciate it if you just stuck to plain English."

"Her?" asked Oliver, slightly confused.

The twins sighed, gave each other a look and replied simultaneously in one word.

"Mum."

"Ah," he smirked. "I understand."

"Do not," countered Anastasia.

"Do too."

"Do _not_."

"I do _too_.

"_Chiudere la bocca!_" Theo wanted to slap the pair.

"Stop speaking _her_ language!"

"Then stop talking!"

"Fine," Anastasia said as her face transformed into a vexed expression that didn't suit her very much.

"Ana, you look like _un singe_, a monkey. Calm down," Alphard suggested with a smile. "You don't want to look angry and blotchy at your Hogwarts debut, do you?"

"_Ti odio_, Alphie. It's your fiancé who looks angry and blotchy all the time, anyhow."

"Ti odio?" Alphard asked, bemused.

"I hate you," she said rudely.

"Ah," he sighed. "I suppose I should have guessed that one on my own."

"Enough with this senseless chatter and _walk_, Anastasia! Look at that huge gap between you and Oliver!" Theo groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. "_Oh mio Dio, che problemi hai_, Anastasia?"

"I don't have a problem!" Anastasia insisted. She begrudgingly agreed to begin walking, flicked her head of light brown hair in the direction of The Great Hall, and began a slow, steady march. She approached each stride with a careful placement of consistency in length and power. Just as she was about to pick up the pace when her mother's voice ran through her head:

"Anastasia! _Mio Dio, ragazza stupida!_ _Cosa fai?_ You don't walk like you are running out of a burning building! You are a _Nott_, for Merlin's sake! You have Zabini blood flowing through your veins," it hissed with malice. "You are descended from Italian wizarding royalty! Walk with dignity, _mia __figlia_! Your ancestors would be turning over their graves if they saw you! _Che disgrazia_, what a disgrace! You do not prance around like some sort of commoner. Keep your back straight! Eyes forward! Lady-like steps! Do not falter or show any signs of weakness! It's simple, Ana; just walk!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to process everything her mother had taught her at home. _Just walk?_ Who knew walking could be so bloody complicated? She wanted to cry. It was all honestly just too much for her to handle.

Anastasia breathed in slightly when she finally caught up with Oliver.

"So nice of you to join us," he commented dryly.

"Bugger off, tosser."

"Don't let your mummy catch you talking like that."

Her eyes hardened. "You're asking for it, Potty."

"Asking for what exactly?" Oliver smiled slyly at her.

"This!" she whispered as she leaned forward and pinched his back. He gave a yelp of pain and she broke out in silent laughter. Before Oliver could retaliate, Dumbledore's booming voice interrupted him.

"Aarons, Carmen!" he called out.

Anastasia watched in awe as a small, timid looking, blond girl bravely marched up in front of the entire hall. She sat on the seat, crossed her legs, and shut her eyes in anticipation. Dumbledore placed what Anastasia assumed to be The Sorting Hat—it was a ratty, old looking thing—on the Carmen girl's head. A few seconds later, it shouted its decision.

"_Ravenclaw!_" it had roared.

A thunderous applause rounded around the hall; the Ravenclaws even stood up to congratulate their newest member.

"Agron, Emilie!"

"_Gryffindor!_"

"Arnica, Emilio!"

"_Slytherin!_"

"Arnica, Eduardo!"

"_Ravenclaw!_"

Anastasia glanced at her feet nervously. She already had a pretty sizable feeling that she would be sorted in Slytherin—it was only natural if she was, after all. Besides, everyone simply expected it to happen, so it probably would, wouldn't it? Theo always commented on how sneaky she was. He praised her ability to talk her way out of punishments and admired her ambition—well, he did for the most part. He also found it entertaining to mock her dreams and belittle her every time she _was _punished.

She remembered the time she told him of her plans on becoming a Healer at St. Mungo's, and recalled his disrespectful comments and laughter. She honestly didn't find it all that funny. Becoming a Healer was by all means a reasonable dream in truth. But still, Theo had called it a 'spinster's job', and told her to abandon all her fruitless intentions.

_Maybe I'll be in Ravenclaw_, she thought to herself. There was no way in hell she'd be in Hufflepuff—she had nothing against them, she was just too determined to succeed. Sometimes, she felt like it would consume her if she didn't have Theo—or her mother—to keep her in check.

"Black, Alphard!" Dumbledore's voice broke her out of her reverie.

She was surprised that they were almost done with the B's, but nonetheless, Anastasia turned to Alphard and gave him a cheesy smile and thumbs-up. She crossed her fingers as she watched him replace the scrawny, mousy looking boy who had just recently joined the Ravenclaw table.

"_Slytherin!_" the hat roared out. Applause filled the hall once more, and Anastasia sighed with relief.

_One down, four to go_, she mused before getting lost in her mind once more.

* * *

"Macmillan, Lorraine!"

"_Hufflepuff!_"

Anastasia wanted to bite her fingernails.

"Montheith, Jonathan!"

"_Gryffindor!_"

She wanted to crawl in a hole and hide there for the rest of her life.

"Nott, Anastasia!"

She wanted to cry. She was frozen. She was ice. She was scared out of her bloody mind.

"Go!" Theo gave her a tiny shove. He nodded positively at his sister.

Oh, how she wanted to puke all over his expensive Italian loafers.

Slowly, she walked to the front of the hall. Dumbledore's smiling face looked like it was supposed to be supportive and encouraging, but it didn't help her. Anastasia was still petrified. What if she fell on her way to the stupid looking hat? Her knees wobbled slightly at the thought as she approached the stool. However of sitting, she merely stared at it. How many other students had once been in her place, awaiting their fate? How many other students had been scared to the point where they were speechless? Was she alone? Or was she another number that determined a whole group?

"Have a seat, my dear," Dumbledore said warmly. He spoke soft enough that only she could hear. "I realize that it can be a bit intimidating, but believe me, it'll be over before you know it."

She obliged and sat down on the stool. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head second later.

"Ah!" it exclaimed. "Anastasia Nott—daughter of Logan Nott and Isabella Zabini, yes! I remember the pair very well."

She gulped. "Horrid, weren't they?" she joked, trying to cover her nervousness.

"Horrid? I suppose that just depends on your definition of the word. Obsessed with power and status, yes, your parents were very built on pure ambition alone. Horrid? I don't think so," it replied.

"I think they can be pretty horrid when they're up to it," she mumbled. "Honestly, they've been pressuring me into making sure I get into Slytherin. I don't really care, but it's what they want—so get to it, you old, ratty thing. Slytherin for me!"

"Slytherin, eh? Are you sure that is where your future lies?"

"Of course it is."

"You would do well in Slytherin, there is no doubt—but your heart tells me there are qualities stronger than your sly nature and desire to thrive. You have a strong heart, a loyal heart. You are brave, are you not?"

"Don't be daft; of course I'm brave. I'm a Nott!"

"Ah!" Anastasia didn't trust its tone suddenly. "Then I see you're finally seeing things my way!" it said cheerfully before belting out, "_Gryffindor_, it is!"

Anastasia was frozen again.

"_Cosa diavolo_?!" Theo's voice was louder than the murmur of applause she had received, and truthfully, she couldn't agree more.

_What the hell_, indeed.

"Miss Nott," Dumbledore said in a hushed tone, "the Gryffindor table is that way." He pointed to a table that was flooded with boys and girls underneath a red and gold banner. "Please join your house, won't you?" he asked with a smile. She nodded mutely. "Oh, and welcome to Gryffindor, dear."

* * *

Anastasia couldn't believe her luck—or bad fortune, depending on how one looked at it. She was sorted into Gryffindor. Bloody _Gryffindor_. She had been expecting Slytherin, would have accepted Ravenclaw, completely disregarded Hufflepuff, and didn't even acknowledge Gryffindor. How could she be in the house she thought least of? Fate must've been laughing its head off the moment it decided to place her in the house of lions. She was a snake! A snake! Could a lion eat a snake?

"It's not that bad, Ana," Oliver said, noticing her unusual silence. "Stop brooding, won't you? At least we're together. Theo is with Alphard and Druella, and we're together." He smiled.

"It's not that bad? Oliver," she spat, "this is bloody _terrible_! Did you see the way Theo glared at me on his way to the Slytherin table? He _hates_ me!"

"Don't say that. Your own brother would never hate you."

"I'm serious! He hates me!"

"Why would he hate you?"

"We were supposed to be in Slytherin together! Together! We're twins! How is this even possible? There should be a rule stating that twins are automatically in the same house. Do you think I can petition it?" She stared wildly at her hands. "Maybe if I write mum and dad—"

"Calm down, Ana! You and Theo aren't the only twins who have been separated. Those Arnica fellows are in Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Don't worry, princess."

"No, no, no," Anastasia groaned. "You don't get it, Oliver. Slytherins and Gryffindors _don't_ get along."

"How would you know that?"

"Look, I just do. This is bad; don't lions eat snakes? I'll die here!"

"Erm," he gave her a weird look, "not that I know of. Look, it's fine. Let's go say goodnight to our friends, shall we?"

"I'd rather not go over there."

"At least say goodnight to your loverboy."

"I doubt he'll want to be my loverboy any longer."

"Stop being so negative," Oliver snapped. He stood up, grabbed her arm, and pulled her in the direction of the Slytherin table. "It isn't becoming on you. Now buck up and let's go."

"This is a stupid idea," she said. He ignored her.

"Druella, Alphard, Theo!" he called out, waving an arm. "Ana and I just wanted to say goodnight to you all. I heard that Slytherin and Gryffindor have most of their classes together so we'll be seeing each other quite often!"

"Goodnight," Anastasia tried to say without crying. She looked wordlessly at her brother. He only glared at her. "Tell Abraxas that I, erm, say goodnight too, won't you?"

"He doesn't want to speak to you at the moment," Druella snapped. "He's ashamed."

"I understand." She really did. Anastasia felt ashamed of herself too. "Well," she said awkwardly, "goodnight, I guess."

Druella only nodded at her.

"Alphard."

"Anastasia," he sighed. "I can't say that I'm pleased with what has happened, but I won't shun you the way they," he jabbed a finger in the direction of their friends, "intend to. I'll be your friend, but things won't be as they were. _Desolé_, my friend. That is just how things will be from now on."

"Understood."

At that moment, Abraxas came tumbling in their direction. "Little ones, what's holding you up? It's time to go to the common room. Come, we go to the dungeons—oh," he glanced at Anastasia and Oliver, "it's you. What are you doing here?"

"Just saying goodnight," Oliver offered, noticing the spite in his voice. "I can tell that you lot are going to be idiots about this, so we'll be leaving now." He gently took hold of Anastasia's right hand and motioned for her to follow his lead. She smiled weakly at Abraxas and Alphard before turning around, ready to head back to her new family.

"Don't touch my fiancé like that," she heard Abraxas hiss. "Unhand her, you brat."

"You have no right to call her that right now," Oliver hissed back.

"Why not? I have more of a right than you do."

"Oliver, Abraxas, let's not do this here," Anastasia looked at the two with pleading eyes. "Please," she begged. "This isn't the right time or place for such a conversation."

"You don't get to tell me what I do, Anastasia," Abraxas condemned coldly. "Not after the embarrassment you've caused me."

"Embarrassment she's caused you?" Oliver was bewildered when he saw his best friend's head droop in shame. "You're the one causing a scene! So she was sorted into a different house, big bloody deal! You all need to just grow up! Come on, Ana. We're leaving."

"Thank you," she whispered when they were finally near Gryffindor tower.

"Don't thank me," he said gruffly. "I'm your friend; it's expected that I stand by you even if your stupid wanker brother and fiancé won't."

She smiled weakly.

"Hey Ana," he asked, all signs of ill temper gone. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What exactly is a beefcake?"

She laughed, realizing his attempt to make her forget. It worked for a second, but then the hysteria finally kicked in. Her life was over.

* * *

***Italian translations: **_Sta zitta_: "Shut up"  
_Ti odio_: "I hate you"  
_Oh mio Dio, che problemi hai?_: "Oh my God, what is your problem?"  
_Mio Dio, ragazza stupida!_ _Cosa fai?_: "My God, stupid girl! What are you doing?"  
_Mia figlia_: "My daughter"  
_Cosa diavolo_: "What the hell?"  
_Che disgrazia_: "What a disgrace"

And _un singe_, is "a monkey" in French, but of course, Alphard clears that up for us :)


End file.
